


Honour-Bound

by Acromania



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 03:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acromania/pseuds/Acromania
Summary: He carried two burdens - a babe and the truth. She is pulled apart - by what is right and what is wrong. / AU





	1. Burdens

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> This is - at the moment - a spur of the moment two-shot with Hermione thrown into the GoT-world. 
> 
> Betalove: kabg0601 - for everything
> 
> Enjoy and let me know what you think!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own GoT or HP.

“Hermione…” Ned sighs, seeing his sister slowly descending the stairs from her bedchamber. She isn’t dressed for mixed company, her hair cascading in thick curls down her back - as black as their oldest sisters was. She never was someone being interested in things like that. Just like Lyanna. The only real difference between them were they goals. One strategic and intellectual, the other hopelessly romantic and headstrong. He smiles ruefully. Maybe it wasn’t a difference.

He looks away from her hopefully glinting eyes when he feels her hands in his, squeezing them softly.

“Ned… are there any... “ she swallows thickly and tries again.

“Are there any news about Lyanna?” Ned blinks away tears, doesn’t want to be weak and fail another sister. His young face shines with his sadness, with the heavy burden he now carries. He takes a shaking breath, feels one of her hands leaving his. When he looks up to command they’ll be left alone he sees it pressed to her mouth, her face uncomfortably white.

When her guards are gone, he turns back. He feels so old. The heaviness of his heart spreads through his body. Ned knows when he looks into Hermione’s eyes that she feels the same way. It would be an easy way out to not say it. To never mention it again. But his honor demands it. Demands the words passing over his lips.

“Lyanna is dead.” The sob leaving Hermione’s throat echos around them, riding on the words he pressed through his pain and guilt. There are tears on her cheeks and desperately he wants to brush them away. When she speaks, though, her voice only quivers lightly.

“How?” Ned squeezes his eyes closed. Wants to hide from the reality of it all. But he steels himself only a few seconds after, turns around slightly and indicates to Howland Reed. The man steps forward, his heavy boots uncomfortably loud in the otherwise silent chamber. Ned watches his sister, sees that she isn’t looking at the man but at what he is carrying.

“Hermione… this is Aegon Targaryen.” Ned introduces taking the small bundle from his companion. He purposefully uses the whole name because he is aware that Hermione would take up all the nuances in these few words. Lyanna got married. Aegon is the love-child of Rhaegar and her. He is the truthful heir to the throne.

“I knew she would.” The sentence lingers in the air when the woman takes the babe, her arms protectively closing around it. One of her fingers caresses his face, the eyes blinking open for only a few seconds then closing again. 

“He’ll be John.” His sister suddenly says. 

“John Snow.” She adds, her eyes still shining with her grief. A new determination overpowers it soon, though. Hermione rolls her eyes once at Ned’s confused expression.

“Robert will never accept something like this. We have to protect him. For Lyanna. And maybe,” her eyes become wistful suddenly, as if she sees something noone else can see. Clearing her throat, she continues.

“And maybe for all of us.” Eddard nods. His shoulders are still hurting from the weight of his sister’s death. His head is still a bit numb because it tried to wrap itself around the concept. But he is as aware of the danger for the babe as Hermione.

“You’ll have to take him with you.” The young woman continues, her hand unconsciously rubbing the boy’s tummy.

“I can’t! Catelyn-”

“Catelyn will learn to live with it. She’s an honorable woman. Headstrong and stubborn, but honorable. She won’t accept him as her own, but she won’t deny you your wish to keep your bastard son with you.” He hates how logical, how clinical she sounds. As if her nephew, the last shred they have left of Lyanna is just a chess piece. Ned understands it nonetheless. When faced with traumatic experiences - like the death of their brother - Hermione always fled into her intellect. 

“I’ll help you protect him, Ned. I’ll help you in any way I can.” She finally says and as if the strength she displayed in the last hour is suddenly leaving her, she places the babe on a soft fur by the fire and sinks down in one of the chairs by it. Eddard rubs his eyes, tiredness both physically and mentally taking their toll. When he looks up she sees her small shoulders shaking. He joins her then, places a comforting hand on her shoulder which she grabs with her own. 

“No one can know about this.” Hermione whispers after a while and even if Eddard wouldn’t know how true these words are, he would have agreed. He would give her the world at the moment.

“I’ll make sure to bind the others with an oath. They are good men. Honorable. They won’t tell a soul.” Ned whispers, isn’t able to speak any louder. His voice breaks slightly. 

“Brandon is dead. Lyanna is dead. It’s only us left, Ned.” As if her words cut the last strings keeping him upright, he sinks to the floor. He feels Hermione placing a hand on his head, soothing him. Tears streak his face anew, sobs shaking his build. Over his own grief he can’t hear her, but her gestures say it all.

“I know.”


	2. Decisions

The swaying of the carriage should put her into a better mindset. Or at least pull her into an uneasy slumber. But that isn’t the case. Instead her fingers twist in her lap and her bottom lip is red from all the abuse she put it through.

The city around her isn’t filled with the cheerful atmosphere she knew all big cities had. Instead she sees beggars, whores and too many dead bodies to count. Her maid presents her with a rose-perfumed veil to keep out the inhuman stench but she denies it. Hermione sees how her maid thinks her macabre for doing so. But she ignores it anyway. 

This is what war does, she remembers reading in one of her books.

It pulls apart families, turns brother against brother. 

A yell pulls her out of her musings and makes her aware that they just entered the red keep. When she steps out of her carriage, she is surprised that the stench isn’t as bad here. With disgust and grief she sees the last remains of battle, though. 

Blood colours the stones red and for a moment she watches servants carrying buckets full of dirty water. 

Red keep indeed, she thinks with anger flittering over her features. With long strides she makes her way into the keep soon after, her goal burning in her mind.

Just entering this monstrosity of a castle makes her shudder, the cool, dry air doing its part. Before she is anywhere near the throne room, a man rushes by only to stop in his pace.

“Lady Stark.” He greets and Hermione grits her teeth and forces a smile upon her lips.

“Ser Jaime.” She greets back but forgoes her manners. She wouldn’t curtsey before him. Not after what she heard his father had done.

“I am surprised to see you here, my lady.” He says, his long legs carrying him back in front of her, “I always thought you hated the city. Your brother, Brandon, liked to joke about it.” 

“Oh, but he is… was right.” Hermione swallows, even after two years unable to accept her brother’s death. An emotion rushes over the knight’s face that she can’t place.

“I deemed it necessary to talk to Robert. He is as much of a brother to me as Ned is.” She explains evasively. She doesn’t trust the lion. Not one of them.

“Is that so?” The Lannister smirks slightly but Hermione doesn’t take the bite.

“If you’ll excuse me now, Ser.” She says instead and turns around, only to feel his hand closing around her wrist softly. He squeezes it once, twice until she looks back to him.

“I never got the chance to send my condolences. For your brother and father.” His voice sounds honest as far as Hermione can judge. But she is too high-strung, too angry already. Forcefully she pulls her wrist out of his gentle grasp and balls her hands into fists.

“Your condolence wasn’t missed. The lords and ladies of Winterfell know better than to fall for the acts of the Lannisters.” She seethes, her eyes glinting with fury. Taking a step forward, she lowers her voice to continue.

“Don’t make the mistake to take me for a little girl, Ser. I know all the plays your father and even you are capable of. And I don’t trust you for it.” Before he can answer, she turns away and marches on. Hermione didn’t miss his expression, though. The shock she witnessed will put her into quite comfortable dreams.  
____________

Eddard watches with growing trepidation how Hermione’s hand closes harder around her goblet filled with the best wine the new king could find. They listened for the last half hour. Listened and didn’t comment. But the Lord of Winterfell knows his sister. The deep breaths she takes are indicators enough to show him she won’t stay silent for much longer. When Robert starts again to rant, a shiver runs through her small frame.

“You should have protected her, Ned. You should have. You are.. were her brother!” A sudden loud clap - a hand forcefully meeting the wood of the heavy table - lets him look up. Hermione curls her lip in disgust at the bloodshot eyes. True, he shed tears for her sister and for that she holds him dear. But a lot of that colour comes from his overindulgence in his wine. 

“Enough!” She says, her voice carrying all the fury that build in her small body.

“I won’t listen to you anymore. To you and your childish accusations!” Her shoulders shake and her eyes, though glinting with fury, are filling up with tears. Hermione tries to calm herself down when she sees him look away his own build overcome with grief.

“Robert,” she begins softly her boots clicking on the stone floor when she steps forward, lays a hand on his shoulder.

“Both my brother and I know how you love her. Because the same feeling fills us both up. Lyanna was…” She swallows away her own emotions.

“Lyanna was an unusable woman. Fierce, loyal. Full of honour and too romantic expectations.” Hermione continues, her eyes taking on a faraway look. Ned steps forward then, his head slightly bowed in shame because he as well blames himself for failing his sister. Mentally, Hermione rolls her eyes. She thought he understood that all of this was Lyanna’s decision. Because she was untamable. And because she loved Rhaegar. 

“I know what it means to lose someone you love.” Eddard begins, his voice breaking slightly. A sudden intake of breath warns Hermione soon enough and she takes a hurried step back. In the next moment Robert - huge, muscular and broken - stands overtowering them both.

“You know nothing of the love I hold for your sister! You know nothing about my loss!” He screams, his booming voice piercing. Eddard’s eyes widen and he wants to shout out, but he is too late. Hermione’s hand forcefully connects with the new king’s cheek, his head turning because of the blow. 

“And you know nothing about the love we have for our sister! Robert, see to reason. Nothing will bring back Lyanna. Nothing will stop us from hurting.” Her tears trail down her cheeks freely now and she doesn’t care. 

Robert’s private quarters are filled with silence, the only sound the fast breathing of both him and Hermione. When he looks up again there is only pain in his eyes and Hermione’s heart breaks for the man in front of her. Someone she thinks of as family. One of his big hands closes in on her face, but she doesn’t pull away because she knows he wouldn’t hurt her. If only because she looks so much like Lyanna. With a gentleness she didn’t know is in him, he brushes away the tears. Then he sinks down into his chair again, his head in his hands.

“Leave me alone.” He whispers brokenly, his voice hoarse and portraying - at least for both of the Stark’s - that this wound won’t heal.  
____________

“I need to go back soon.” Hermione mumbles, her arm put around Eddard’s while they walk through the gardens and down to overlook the sea. 

“I know. And I will feel better when you do.” Ned replies, his free hand touching hers softly.

“Me, too. But I need to stay a bit longer.” Her determination doesn’t surprise him. It’s the same he witnessed just a few months back when she ordered him to raise their nephew as his own.

“You don’t trust them.” The Lord of Winterfell says, his voice though muted.

“No, I don’t. And Robert shouldn’t as well.” Her hand on his arm clenches for a moment.

“He will marry Cersei.” Ned confesses suddenly already expecting his sister to turn to him sharply.

“No. That can’t be true. He isn’t stupid enough…” Ned holds out a hand to stop her from speaking, her voice too loud for his comfort.

“He will. And taking into consideration that he is now the king, it is a …” Eddard seems to be at loss then continues, ”We can’t talk him out of this.” The silence that greets him makes him frown and a foreboding feeling surges through his limbs.

“But maybe we can.” Hermione begins, winding her arm through his again and pulling him along. Her eyes avoid him.

“Lyanna was promised to him and House Stark couldn’t keep that promise. It would be honourable and the only right thing to do to arrange a marriage with him and… me.” The last part Hermione whispers, her chest tightens in fear and the first cracks in her dreams.

“No.” Eddard presses out through hard lips.

“But listen Ned…” Hermione tries to argue and the Lord of Winterfell has to suppress a fond smile. She likes to argue. Instead he steels himself, reminds himself what is at stake and interrupts her.

“No, Hermione. I won’t. This is madness.” He growls angrily, turns her around with both of his hands on her shoulders and squeezes them.

“I won’t allow you to throw away your dreams like this. Your life. I won’t allow for you to live in a place you hate, to be married to a man you could never be happy with.” His left hand caresses her cheek. Hermione closes her eyes for a moment, a shuddering breath running through her lips.

“But don’t you see what will happen if we allow for that marriage to happen?” She voices softly, her lids fluttering open. Eddard’s face is hard - etched with worry for both his close friend and his sister. He nods.

“We won’t let this happen. But not at the cost of your freedom.” 

____________

The marriage put a dagger through both of their hearts. They couldn’t intervene and so both of them stayed quiet. When everything was said and done they could only applaud cautiously and congratulated the couple. Both of Robert’s and Cersei’s faces didn’t show a happiness that should come with marriage.

Hermione watches from the shadows when Ned promises his allegiance to Robert again and is pronounced the Warden of the North. Just like their father once was for King Aerys. She hopes with all her heart that her brother won’t make the same mistakes but a churning stomach and shivering hands tell her otherwise. Honour would be both of their downfall something tells her.

“A lady like you shouldn’t linger in the shadows.” A voice suddenly pierces her mournful thoughts. Throwing a glance in the direction of the speaker, she raises an eyebrow.

“No one can admire your beauty that way.” The man continues, his small legs carrying him further into the light of the torch a few steps away from her.

“Imp.” She greets, her straight face pulling into a small smile.

“My Lady.” He greets back, a heartfelt smile on his.

“Do you care for a late night stroll through the gardens?” He asks suddenly.

“So your tiny hands can feel up under my dress?” She asks and chuckles softly when she sees his taken aback expression that turns into a full smile. He bows mockingly.

“My reputation proceeds me again, I guess.” He answers. Hermione steps forward, suddenly feeling too caged in the thick walls of the keep. She stops a few paces from him.

“Aren’t you coming?” She asks over her shoulder and smiles when he hurries his steps to catch up to her.

When they enter the gardens, the soft sound of running water greets them. A few guards stand at the entrances to the keep but otherwise the garden is deserted. Hermione takes slow steps to the well and sits down, her fingertips dancing over the cool surface.

“I hate this monstrosity.” She says randomly glancing upwards in the never ending sky.

“You should see Casterly Rock before you build your opinion on something like this.” Hermione chuckles softly at the small man’s answer. She didn’t expect one of the lions to be this cynical - even if he is an imp. He sits down next to her. One of his hands message his legs.

“Does it bother you?” She asks, avoiding his shadowed face.

“That I’m the most handsome Lannister? Why would it.” He answers, shrugging slightly. His eyes glance over to the young woman next to him. Tyrion heard a lot of things about this Stark child. But none of them seem to be quite true, he amends when he watches her for a moment longer. She seems a bit uncomfortable.

“When I walk a lot the muscles cramp. No Maester in the seven kingdoms could find a cure. Not that they put much effort into it.” The last words he whispers and ends them with a snort.

“But your father…” Hermione begins, confusion clouding her face.

“My father hates me as much as Cersei hates Robert. I’m an evil he has to live with.” Hermione doesn’t want to pry but that tone, the undercurrent of sad acceptance bothers her.

“I guess Tywin Lannister settles with nothing but perfection.” She muses softly, pulling both of her hands into her lap. Out of the corner of her eyes she sees him glance in her direction.

“That, my Lady, is true enough.” He answers and even shadowed she can see his face contorting in a curious mixture of hate and love. They stay silent after that, both thinking about their words.

“I fear for the future.” Hermione says after a while, because she feels like talking about it and from her first impression the youngest Lannister isn’t such a bad companion.

“Don’t we all.” He mutters back, leaning forward a bit to reach his calves. He throws the girl next to him a short glance and raises an eyebrow.  
“What? Don’t you think I know my own sister?” He asks rhetorically and Hermione muses on his words for a moment.

“I once thought no one could ever know Lyanna like I do.” She whispers, her hands balling into fists in the fabric of the dress she was forced to dress in.

“She was the most beautiful and headstrong woman ever walked the seven kingdoms if the talk is anything to go by.” The imp answers, his voice lowered now as well. It makes Hermione like him a bit more. Because his words hold honesty and something tells her real compassion.

“That she was. And so much more. I still can’t believe what happened to her. And some part of me wants to be in her stead. That she can live her life so full of fire like she always did.” A sob fights its way up her throat and she presses a hand to her mouth. Suddenly her own hand is picked up, small fingers patting hers.

“You know, the lords and ladies say the same thing about you.” The small man starts, his own face turned into the direction of the sky.

“Fierce and loyal, they say. Intelligent and beautiful.” He continues and feels her fingers flexing under his.

“Your sister, may the seven watch over her, wouldn’t want you to think this. She chose her way. And as far as I can judge as a brother myself, I think she would want you to live your life. And keep her in good memory.” He squeezes her hand once again and pulls his hand away afterwards. He doesn’t comment on the muted sobs or the way he feels her skirt brushing against his legs through the receding pain. He just keeps her company.

After a while he stands up, shakes his legs a bit. 

“Thank you…” The Stark girl begins, her eyes huge and dark in her pale face, her wild curls dancing around it.

“Tyrion.” He provides. She smiles a bit shyly.

“Thank you, Tyrion.”


End file.
